The Ugly Side of Humanity

Ugh, it is one of those days when I get discouraged that people have a dark side, and some have a very easy time letting it rotate into the sunlight. After dealing with a guest who ignored our no-smoking policy, despite signing a specific agreement on the reservation form agreeing to being charged for said behavior, he left a cup full of cigarette butts in a very smoked up room. In addition, we have multiple signs on the property, and ashtrays outside everywhere with seating next to them. And, did you know that despite hotels having a no-smoking charge - they cannot enforce it? The credit card companies will not support the merchant. The guest has to "sign" that they accept the smoking penalty. So, I decided to charge the man half of the normal penalty and wrote to him that if he opts to dispute the charges, I will take him to small claims court, since he is a Keys resident, and ask for court costs in addition to the full penalty. And that I have photos of his deed. We will see what he does.

Then, after dealing with that slime bag, (who by the way was an "arrogant jerk" when he checked in according to staff), I received a phone bill for almost $300 of phone call charges to Cuba made in a two day rental in a property that we own. Dummy me. I thought that having local calls only established with AT&T meant, just that - local calls only. No, I just learned that you can dial 1010123 and get around that little system and charge calls to anywhere you would like. And, when calling the former renters to discuss this bill with them, I learned that their phone is disconnected. Not only did I go out of my way to make an exception for this family who needed a short term rental which is not my normal policy, during their stay we had to call the police for excessive noise, and their group of 6 as stated on the contract was really about 14 people, and last but not least, after they turned in the keys, they snuck back in the house and used the house, and pool until late in the day after we thought they had departed. How do people do these things and not feel guilt? Does what goes 'round really come 'round?? And, by the way, I have shared some little secrets of the low life world but trust that my blog readers are my friends and family and would never use this new knowledge!

Happy 100th Birthday, Howard Ryden Nord

Today would be father's 100th birthday. This occurred to me last month as I attended my husband's aunt's 95th birthday dinner in Naples, Fl. and as I walked the beach that day, I calculated that my father had been born in 1910. My sister Suzanne had thought about it also I learned in a later phone conversation, and I wanted to post this remembrance.

What an amazing century to live in. Dad used to tell me about when their home as children was "electrified." He and his teenage friends bought a used Model-T Ford for $5 and his buddy fell off the running board and broke a leg. His father died of an infection that began in a tooth, pre-antibiotics. His mother did the laundry for a family of nine before the amazing washers and dryers of today. Once a year the rugs were hung outside to be "beaten" because Stanley Steamer didn't exist. Fresh fruit and vegetables were stored in the cellar at the end of harvest and the idea of a fresh orange and an apple in your Christmas stocking was because they were such rare and expensive treats mid winter. You didn't run to the store and make a salad for dinner. Food was homemade (and delicious I am sure if made by my Swedish grandmother).

My father lived through WWI, the Great Depression, WWII, air travel, the first man on the moon and so much invention that I cannot begin to name. He remembered when neighbors cared for neighbors and there was no Social Security or welfare. He did not glorify the past and talked of hard times that people experienced. He was part of the post WWII boom and returned to build a home, work, raise a family, take us on yearly vacations, put children through college and experience a "snow bird" retirement lifestyle. All good. And, he managed to live his whole life and never once use a computer as far as I know. And, also never swear once in front of me (although my son Matt did hear him mutter one, once, when missing the coin drop on the Fl. turnpike). So, here's to you Dad. Happy 100th. Quite a century. Quite a life.

How Did I Get So Lucky?

I haven't blogged for quite a while. It isn't because I haven't had anything to say. It is because "my feet have barely touched the ground" as Harry would say.

I feel so lucky that I have had such a rich life. I have had some pretty rough times emotionally, as those close to me know, but in terms of opportunities and freedoms, I have had it all. I was able to quit work when my kids were small and enjoy the job of mother without the unbelievable pressures women have who are juggling jobs in and out of the home. I have only "worked" (meaning a pay check) part time for the last 20+ years. And, the jobs I had were totally able to be done on my own schedule. Now I find this freedom to be so sweet. No responsibilities or persons at home to constantly worry about. I love this time in life.

I spent the past couple weeks attending Harry's aunt's 95th birthday dinner in Naples, Fl which we extended into a several day vacation, fishing with my son Matt, and vacationing with my girlfriend. Harry and I had a great time together on Sanibel at our favorite haunts and also enjoyed spending time with Harry's brother George, cousins and Aunt Marion in Naples. We love the west coast of Florida, but I have to say, when entering the restaurant for dinner in on the first night of our trip Naples, I texted Sam who was on his way to join us to "be prepared because everyone except us appeared to be over 100." I guess this is because of the off season and also the restaurant, which appeared to appeal to the Naples blue blood types.

The day after we got back from Naples, Matthew and his brother-in-law Ryan Fitzpatrick, arrived with fishing poles in hand and we hit the water in my new (used) flats skiff, the "No Baloney" - so named because Ryan could not get over how good the baloney sandwiches we took aboard were. I think he had not had one his whole adult life. Our first venture was across open water to the Everglades. With storm clouds looming, I did not dare try to discourage Matt and we donned rain gear and off we went. Riding for an hour in pelting rain is like a new kind of spa facial - perhaps more like a zapping laser treatment. When we got to Flamingo, the first thing I saw before thunder forced us to the marina was a whole flock of Roseate Spoonbills on the flats. I couldn't even get a picture of these amazing birds, the color of flamingos with a flat spoon shaped mouth. As we pulled our boat in, a huge alligator cruised by. After the thunder subsided, we headed back out to fish in the rain. We decided that riding across open water again to our car was going to be a nightmare ride with all of the storms and convinced Sam to pick up our car and trailer and drive all the way north to the Everglades National park (about an hour and a half) to pick us up. When dark fell, we sought refuge in a fish cleaning station with screening because the mosquitoes in the Everglades are like being attacked by the Red Cross Bloodmobile. We were cold, wet, hungry and miserable happy!! The ride back in the car with heat blasting would have made any northerner laugh because the outside temp was probably 76.

The next day I woke to find Matt at the computer searching the weather reports and we lucked out. Calm seas and fairly clear skies. We headed south to the area of Big Pine Key. I love it there. Isolated, starkly beautiful. You could be in the Caribbean. Fishing wasn't great but the day was. We had a wonderful time enjoying nature and each other's company. We had dinner at the No Name Pub on Big Pine Key. It is a Key's classic - character and characters. There are about $30,000 dollar bills stapled to the ceiling and walls. The beer was cold and the pizza and wings a perfect compliment.

The third day of the visit was offshore fishing. The water was flat calm as we left our canal and we were out to 1500 feet in no time. After some searching we found a large weed patch floating alone in the gulf stream. Baits out, troll a few minutes and BAM, double hook up of Mahi Mahi and these were really nice size. Bringing one too the boat means the rest of the school follows and they are visible under the water so the fun begins. Three people fishing, chaos, tangled lines, fish running under the boat. It is adrenaline pumping action and the end result was some great fish and a spectacular dinner of Macadamia crusted Mahi with a Thai curry sauce - my specialty. And, lots more in the freezer. The day ended with us coming home and being joined by a school of porpoise who swam with the boat and played and entertained us.

Ryan had to head home that night. Matt and I were able to get out on the flats near the house one more time the next day. We finished his trip with a dinner out at a local restaurant that we can walk to, and after dinner, listened to the band. Eating outside to me is one of the most delightful ways to dine and one of the many joys of living in the sub-tropics.

Next morning, Matt and I were on the road at 5:30AM to head to the airport. I dropped him off and headed north to the Tampa airport to pick up my friend, Fern, who flew down from Cleveland for a few days of golf and girlfriend time. Fern has been a friend for over 30 years. I met her in graduate school soon after I moved kicking and screaming to Cleveland. That move turned out to be wonderful when I learned to love the people and the wonderful diversity of the city. The trip almost didn't happen because Fern's mother died the week before after several years of failing health and a move into a nursing home. Fern decided to come and it turned out to be the perfect antidote after caring for a very difficult, aging parent. Some of us were lucky in parent department, and some not. I don't need to say more.

The ride north was uneventful until I saw, looming in the distance, the Skyway Bridge near Clearwater, Fl. Holy cow! To me, it looked like the Magnum at Cedar Pt. amusement park. As I got closer, my hands and feet started to sweat. I maneuvered to an inside lane and fought off my panic as I drove up, up and up. At the top, I got the nerve to look out over the incredible water vista. I think I didn't stop perspiring for an hour. I am so afraid of heights, that even watching something high on TV can start me in a panic! Why the heck did they make this bridge so high? I know that I have dreamed about driving over high bridges many times, and this time, my dream was real. I don't know what the fear means. One time a co-worker told me I had a fear of heights because I was not "grounded." Is that like being a blond? Was she saying I was ditzy? I remember walking on the Kinzua railroad bridge in Pa. years ago with my family and literally having to get down on all fours and crawl off. Maybe I am afraid I will fling myself off in some wild impulsive suicide attempt? Or, most likely, I know what a klutz I am and am afraid I will fall.

Fern and I rented a little house in Spring Hill, Fl. through http://www.vrbo.com/ - a great site that I use to rent our vacation rental. The home was adorable, comfortable and a perfect launch pad. We played golf twice.

One course, World Woods, was a top rated public course. Absolutely beautiful. We explored the area all the way down to Clearwater and back. We ate out in fun restaurants. We shopped. We went to two beaches. It was a great time full of laughs and we were so tired at night we couldn't stay up past 11.

Home now. Back to work at the motel. Harry caught me up on all of the projects he has worked on while I was away. Sam had new projects to review also. I am tapping my foot while planning the next adventure.

It Bloomed!

Sam and I left at 6AM this morning for the airport to attend a wedding in Cincinnati. In the dark, I noticed an enormous white flower on the cactus and sure enough, it had bloomed. But at night. And, after some research, I learned that the bloom lasts one night! So, out of 44 years, which is around 16,000 nights, we just happened to be up before dawn and I just happened to notice this white glow near the cactus, and we just happened to see this most magnificent flower. Nature is a wondrous, mysterious thing. There must be some insect out there flying only at night that is in perfect symbiosis with this flowers rhythms. My father loved to quote the poet John Keats "A thing of beauty is a joy forever." So true.

Douglas John Urich's Cactus

Today is the 10th anniversary of the death of Doug Urich. Doug was my former husband, and the father of my oldest son, Matt. Doug died suddenly of cardiac arrest at the age of 52. Ironically, he was an avid cyclist and exercised frequently. He had just completed a long ride along the shores of Lake Michigan in Chicago before his death. But, the day was the hottest of the year, and my theory has always been that dehydration contributed to the blockage created by a small piece of plaque. His medical records showed that he had recently been advised to lower his BP and take statins. Statins stabilize plaque. But, like so many men, he ignored the health advice. Bad luck and not calling 911 immediately at the first signs of distress are a bad combination and I advise anyone reading this blog to remember to pay attention to warning signs.

Doug also had a simmering temper, which I also believe contributes to cardiovascular problems, and I partially blame it for his early death. He was a big man, tall and of large stature. He played football in high school and went to Miami University on a football scholarship. When he was in the second grade, he was taller than his teacher. We often discussed how being so large creates a situation for a man where he has to work to appear gentle. I think that effort created a disconnect in him regarding anger and he often had to work hold back the impulse to express it. Because, when he was mad, he was frightening to those around him. I once made him stand at the bottom of the stairs and climbed up two steps so that we could discuss something face to face instead of looking up at his football player sized self, like usual. And, when that man was hungry, he was grumpy! His son Matt said he attacked a parking garage meter once when it didn't function correctly on the way to dinner. Like father, like son Matt, and like grandson Jack. When in need of nourishment, behaviours change. And then, once fed, back to placid and lovable.

Doug was a handsome man with dark good looks and a megawatt smile. He was named "cutest boy" in his high school yearbook. But, he had no conceit about his looks, and in fact was somewhat naive about them. I remember being in line at some function and overhearing women talking about him. I sang the lyrics to him "the groom was prettier than the bride" from the song "Sadie, Sadie" in Funny Girl, before we got married. Doug had a great sense of humor. He was personable and charming. He was intelligent and an avid reader to feed his curiosity. He learned well from his own father that a trip to the museum meant stopping and taking in every sign. In fact, he would whip off the road at every roadside historical marker he saw to study them. And as a father, he fed Matt's curiosities. If Matt was interested in dinosaurs, then they went to the Natural History museum repeatedly. The Civil War interest brought about countless trips to battlefields. He bought Matt book after book about whatever interest arose. And, when Matt became passionate about fishing, Doug joined the interest and took him on many memorable trips to exotic fishing locales.

Doug obtained a degree in Hospital Administration and that became his career path. After he completed graduate school, we moved to Cleveland for work. Eventually, we divorced, but it was always civil and kind. In fact, we used the same lawyer and it cost $700 - unheard of these days. He remained a part of my family and welcome at family events. There was no rancor. We shared custody. I always trusted Doug totally. I knew Matt was in the best of loving hands and had a father who adored him. Something happened along the way, though, and Doug estranged himself from his own family. He moved in and out of another marriage. And, he made a career move to Chicago. That one single decision was, I believe, the worst he ever made. He had hurt his child who now had to travel back and forth by plane to see a father who was once so near and accessible. Doug never seemed happy after that move. I felt that he knew he had made a poor choice and could not reverse it. Even when he was involved with someone who moved to Chicago to be with him and was perhaps going to marry, there was a sadness about him.

I imagine that things would now be different, if his life had not been cut so short. He would be relishing the role of grandfather and be a doting one at that. He would perhaps be remarried and enjoying companionship instead of isolation. He would have reconciled his relationships with his family; he had made the first step toward that to attend a family wedding later in the month he died. We will never know what would have been. We can only try to understand him, and miss the man who was, in his heart, a very wonderful person.

This week I had a delightful surprise that I wish I could share with him. When I told Matt, it was he that reminded me of the 10th anniversary of his father's death. When Doug went to college, in 1966, his high school girlfriend gave him a cactus after Doug had broken up with her, with a note calling him a "prick." That cactus went to Miami U., then to Cincinnati to our first home, and then Buffalo, back to Cleveland, and then Chicago. I brought the cactus back to Cleveland after Doug's death and when we moved to Key Largo, it came down also. Around its base are rocks and shells, collected from travels. There is a small piece of the Roman Forum (before stupid tourists like me were barred from close encounters), among others things. In the intense Florida sun, the cactus has grown solid and healthy. When I was getting the mail several days ago, I saw that for the FIRST TIME IN 44 YEARS, the cactus has flower buds on it. I was excited, and know Doug would have been too! Is it a sign? Who knows. But if a sign is something that makes your heart sing with joy, and remember the most lovely memories, than this is a sign. A sign that Doug was loved and that we still care about him, and miss him, so very much.

Bye Bye LA

We have been visiting this house in LA for over 20 years. Harry's dad, and step mom, Doris, lived there after marrying. When Harry's mother died at the young age of 64, Harry's dad waited the perfunctory mourning period and then set about to meet a companion. He carried his notes on index cards in his breast pocket, just as Harry does, and one of those cards had the requirements he had for a second wife. He dated a few women, but Doris, who was also widowed, happened to be working in the gift shop in the Hotel in Los Angeles that Harry's dad had built, and she fit all the requirements. She was Jewish, attractive, did not have a career to interfere with Sidney's schedules and respectably widowed. She also turned out to be loving, kind, caring and a wonderful stepmother wife and stepmother. They lived in an apartment for a while in Encino and moved back and forth between Sidney's apartment in Cleveland and LA, but eventually moved to LA permanently with this house purchase. Doris loves LA. Sidney loved Cleveland. But business was happening in LA so the move fit.

Over those 20 some years, Harry logged over 940,000 miles on Continental Airlines visiting his father and also attending to the business that they had in LA. In fact, soon he will hit the million mile mark and we both will be gifted a permanent elite status. Quite a nice bonus! But well deserved by a son who gave up a weekend almost every month to sit in his father's kitchen, discuss politics, drive him around when macular degeneration took his ability to drive away and tend to whatever need he had. The job jar was always full of little tasks. And the visit always included being driven to their favorite restaurants. In fact, we did the same thing with Doris this weekend. Emilio's for lunch, where for years they went after temple. My favorite, The Bijou. The requisite Brett's deli. Most of these spots know Doris, and Harry also.

Recently, Doris decided that it was time to sell the house. Sidney is gone and she has decided that it would be a better move for her to go into a retirement apartment complex near her sons in the Bay area. We were shocked when it sold in three weeks with a move out date of Sept. 1 so we hustled out to LA last weekend to visit one last time and help out with the moving preparations.

It was sad! I wandered about in Sidney's little backyard filled with his flowers, roses, potted citrus trees, fig trees and the most spectacular grapefruit tree you have ever seen. He loved to garden. As his sight began to fail, he would finally allow me to pull weeds, and pot annuals. Before that, I wouldn't think of touching his garden. It was his pride and joy. You plant a tree when you own a home and its growth parallels the growth of your family, your children, your grandchildren. You watch it grow but often it survives you. Someone else will move into that home and I hope that they enjoy going outside every morning to pluck a grapefruit for their breakfast as much as Sidney did. Some of the garden ornaments are coming to the Keys so that we can place them about our yard and think of Sid and Doris.

I know this is a very difficult stage in Doris's life. Leaving a city she has called home for over 60 years, giving up a car, leaving a house for an apartment and moving into what will most likely be her last home. She is handling the move with the grace and dignity that she handles everything. She asked over and over if we would come to see her in Marin county. Of course, we promised. And plans are already in place for day trips in wine country, new restaurants to become favorites and, hopefully, many new memories.

Gratuity?

Mavis, our housekeeper, found this in the trash yesterday in one of the rooms at the motel that she was cleaning. I debated whether or not to call the guests, which is standard policy if they leave something behind, but considering the nature of the item and that it was in the trash I decided to not get involved. Not that I believe that marijuana should be illegal, but the law is the law and I wanted to stay out of that arena. I imagine it went into the trash by accident. I won't go into details about what I did with the items...

Guests leave a myriad of treasures behind on a regular basis. Food left behind goes to the housekeepers. Beer goes into my "fishing fridge" and later into the boat cooler. Clothes, if we cannot find owners to return them to, or if they went into the general laundry, go into the lost and found and after a few weeks unclaimed, they are washed and taken by staff or end up at Salvation Army. I take a trash bag full about once a month. We have a drawer full of phone chargers, camera chargers, and foreign currency converters which we try to recycle to needy persons. We have shipped clothes, eyeglasses, jewelry and even a purse with money, credit cards and passport to a guest from Czechoslovakia (we intercepted their American travels in North Carolina). The item that gave us the biggest laugh was a vibrator. No one wanted to go near that one, but we did giggle all day. But one item, that continually gets left behind, is pillows. I think guests are often attached to their own pillows and travel with them. As a rule, I throw them out. Bed bugs are a major problem in the hotel industry and I will not chance them being transported on a pillow and living large in my laundry room while I try to locate their owners. The most striking and disturbing thing I have learned is that often, these pillows are disgustingly dirty! Last week two very lovely middle aged women, who drove a nice car, were dressed beautifully and had the appearance of good hygiene, left a pillow that under the case, was about as filthy an item as I have ever seen. I didn't even want to touch it to toss it. Go figure??

I have left one item in a hotel. My very favorite Ralph Lauren classic black blazer in New Orleans after a girlfriend trip to Mardis Gras. I called immediately after discovering my loss, within a couple hours of checking out. I knew exactly where I left it hanging in the room on the back of the closet door. The hotel said that housekeeping had not seen it and it was never found. I still regret that loss, and that event has prompted me to make sure that we make every effort to return all legal substances to their rightful owner.